


Seeing Stars

by StargazingWho



Series: Doctor Who Oneshots [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Post-Episode: s09e12 Hell Bent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13201812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StargazingWho/pseuds/StargazingWho
Summary: Whouffaldi if you squint."They thought I'd forget. But I remembered everything."





	Seeing Stars

When he woke up in the middle of that desert in Nevada, he knew he had to find her. Everything corner of his mind was constantly nagging, _“FIND CLARA!”_

Clara, Clara, Clara. He punched a wall for four and a half billion years to get to her, where was she now? This wasn’t Gallifrey. Only when he’s approached by a tourist does he actually know why he’s here.

“Clara told me to look after you. She said you might be upset.”

“Yes… Where did she go?”

“She was here just a moment ago…”

The Doctor found his red electric guitar laying on the ground, close to where he had been. A few feet from the guitar was a canvas backpack. Funny. When he passed out, he wasn’t in his own TARDIS. Slinging the instrument and knapsack across his back, he began walking away from the tourist. What was he doing? He needed a ride to find Clara. He was in the middle of nowhere in the United States, and the last time he’d been here was when he nine hundred years old, with Amy, Rory and River. And that was over a thousand years ago.

He turned back. “Is there a chance you’d be able to give me a ride? Just a couple of miles down the highway would be good.”

The tourist led the Doctor to a red truck on the side of the road and motioned for him to get in. After driving for almost an hour, the Doctor saw a diner, once again in the middle of nowhere. Thanking the man, he climbed out of the car and walked towards the small building. The interior of it looked the same as the diner in Utah. The diner where River slapped Bow-Tie.

Inside was a woman in a blue waitresses’ outfit. He opened the door, walking in. Air conditioning felt good after waking up in the scorching sun. “Don’t Stop Me Now” filled the background. When she turned around, he studied her face from behind his sunglasses. Ah, yes. It was Clara. Her hair was a bit different, and the Chronolock seemed to be missing.

“Hi! What can I get you?”

“I don’t have any money… But I play.” He held up the guitar.

“Okay.”

The Doctor sat down at one of the bar stools, fumbling with his guitar on his lap.

“Don’t you need to plug that thing in?” Clara says, pointing out the obvious.

“Yeah.” He said, removing the sonic sunglasses and setting them on the counter.

Any normal person would think, “How do sunglasses that make whirring noises equate to an amp for an electric guitar?”

“You’re English.” Now it was the Doctor’s turn to state the obvious.

“You’re not.” She laughed. Four and a half billion years… He missed that laugh.

“How did you get out here?” It seemed like a regular, normal question, since this was America, and she’s from England.

“Magic.” Well, this was her TARDIS, right?

“Or maybe I went to the airport and caught a plane.”

The Doctor sighed.

“You?”

“Magic.” Once a man of mystery, always a man of mystery… He began playing a few chords on the guitar.

Clara turned her head, looking around as the radio and speakers faded from the classic Queen song to whatever the Doctor was playing.

“I believe you.”

“You’ve been traveling?”

“Yeah. From time to time.” He joked. He knew she understood.

He played a tune, one he wrote for, and named after Clara a few months back. He never played it while she was onboard the TARDIS.

“Is it a sad song?” Oh no. He’d written it for her around a week after meeting Ashildr. It was just a happy song that sounded sad.

“Nothing’s sad till it’s over. Then everything is.” He continued playing the song, concentrating on the melody of it.

“What’s it called?”

“I think that it’s called… Clara.” He’s finally said it.

“Tell me about her.”

“I don’t have to.” The Doctor sighs, looking at Clara.

“Doctor… Why hasn’t time broken down?”

“Well, your death is a fixed point. The universe depends on it happening. I don’t know how time and space are still functioning properly.”

“That’s… reassuring, Doctor.”

Ashildr poked her head out from the washroom- TARDIS console room.

“Clara! I can’t fix the chameleon circuit. Our TARDIS is stuck like a diner.”

“I can fix it. I think. I don’t know, my TARDIS changes every time I regenerate.”

“Is that the Doctor?” Ashildr called, worried. “How does he remember you?”

“I never forgot in the first place.” He smirks.

“Wait, but how?”

“Human compatible neural block. Not Time Lord compatible. It didn’t work on me.”

“You remember what I said in the Cloisters, right?”

“Bit foggy, since I passed out, but yes.” Clara wrapped her arms around his stick-insect body.

“I’ve missed you, Clara Oswald.” Hugging back, now. This hadn’t happened for four and a half billion years, since she faced the raven.

“So, what are we going to do?”

“Well, I’ve been looking for my TARDIS. Someone’s moved it.”

“We’ve got it. In the other room.”

“Oh, and would you like me to adjust the chameleon circuit in this one?”

“Yeah. Something conventional, small, like a telephone booth.”

This TARDIS's chameleon circuit was fried. He used his sonic sunglasses, and was able to adjust it in an instant. When stepping out of the console room, it led them to the exterior. It was now a red telephone booth, one you found in the streets of London.

Inside one of the rooms of the red box was the Doctor’s blue police box, his TARDIS. Dematerializing, and then appearing a couple of feet away from the telephone booth.

“So, Clara. Who would you like to travel with?”

“I have to chose now?”

“Clara, go with the Doctor. I can do fine on my own. I’ve gotten used to it, anyways.” Ashilder urges.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine? Don’t get yourself killed or anything, okay?”

“I promise. The Doctor needs someone to look after him, anyways.”

“Until I develop a conscious of my own, yes. Clara’s told me before.”

“For now though, farewell.” Ashildr steps inside her newly remodelled TARDIS, while the Doctor and Clara step into the police box that hasn’t been under a lot of the sun's light since that day on Trap Street.

“Where are we going, Doctor?”

“Into light.”


End file.
